


всетаки нужно искать гармонию а не противопоставление, созвучие а не столкновение
мне нравится мысль что у всего есть аромат и у цветка и у человека и у дерева и главное его не потерять
а еще я прочитал в ленинке книгу тайная жизнь растений питера томпкинса и захотел купить домой цветы
только посоветуйте мне пожалуйста какие
- Mood:пальмы-жирафы
Horror stories from the world of shared living spaces. EEK!
A journal where the alternative fourth season of the TV show Doctor Who is being written.
Keep youself smiling at the little things with some funny comics.
A community for everyone who loves bicycles, motorbikes, and more.
Follow one woman's quest to knit an entire vow-renewing wedding. Encouragement is encouraged.
For writers interested in an ongoing competition that tests your narrative chops.
A longstanding art, icon and base archive centered around RPGs.
I woke up this morning with a bad feeling in the pit of my stomach. The generalized anxiety left over from this morning's vivid dreams (involving serial killers, a plane crash, and something unseen chasing me through a desolate urban landscape: the holy triumvirate of Suki's Nightmare World) has given way to a persistent, nameless dread and a jumpy/sick burbling that won't go away.
I hate feeling like this. I hate being such a wimpy, sensitive person that one bad dream plus a little bit of job stress can turn me into such a quivering marshmallow. I feel like my guts are melting into my core, my middle becoming a gooey, undifferentiated mass of jelly. It's warm outside, and rapidly becoming warmer, but I am shivery and covered in goosebumps.
It sometimes feels like I do nothing but worry. I bite my nails down to the quick and then start gnawing on my cuticles, as I mentally rub the worry stones in my head. Every decision, every plan, I worry: Am I doing the right thing? What if I'm not? WHAT IF I'M NOT AND EVERYONE HATES ME NOW?
Anyway, I'm having a hard time shaking it.
I hate feeling like this. I hate being such a wimpy, sensitive person that one bad dream plus a little bit of job stress can turn me into such a quivering marshmallow. I feel like my guts are melting into my core, my middle becoming a gooey, undifferentiated mass of jelly. It's warm outside, and rapidly becoming warmer, but I am shivery and covered in goosebumps.
It sometimes feels like I do nothing but worry. I bite my nails down to the quick and then start gnawing on my cuticles, as I mentally rub the worry stones in my head. Every decision, every plan, I worry: Am I doing the right thing? What if I'm not? WHAT IF I'M NOT AND EVERYONE HATES ME NOW?
Anyway, I'm having a hard time shaking it.
- Mood:
morose









